


Take It or Leave It

by Inell



Series: 2017 Prompt Challenge [33]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Childhood Friends, College Student Jackson, College Student Stiles, Future Fic, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Past Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Season/Series 06A Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 10:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9543923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: When Stiles finally has time to do the Smithsonian museum crawl he’s had planned since moving to DC, he runs into Jackson at the American History museum.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Jackson/Stiles - “How long have you been standing there?”
> 
> Nonnie, I hope you enjoy this! I was totally inspired by Stiles’ canon plans in the winter finale, so there are minor spoilers for season 6A. Fic #33 in my 2017 Prompt Challenge.

 

The first two weeks at GWU have been non-stop busy. Stiles has spent just about every waking moment dealing with unpacking, trying to make his dorm room feel homey, getting to know his new roommate (Zacharias—but call me Z), adjusting to the independent nature of college, and enjoying being across the country from the hellmouth known as Beacon Hills. While he knows he’ll probably eventually feel somewhat guilty for getting the fuck out of that town, he isn’t feeling anything right now except relief. Well, that and a little regret at giving up Roscoe, even if he knows Scott will take care of him. Parking in DC is a nightmare, though, and the public transportation system is pretty easy to navigate so it just made sense to give Roscoe to his brother in all but blood.

Still, he misses Roscoe more than he misses anything about Beacon Hills other than his dad and Scott. Fortunately, there’s Skype, which his dad has figured out to use with the help of one of the new deputies, and the phone is always right there, too. Skype satisfies any need he has for seeing his dad and friends, and he has to wonder sometimes if the whole Ghost Rider Being Forgotten Nightmare of Senior Year™ might have some influence on his lack of sadness at moving away for college. Spending time disconnected from everyone, being forgotten like that, it made him feel restless in a way he couldn’t even explain to Lydia.

Speaking of Lydia, he snaps a selfie at the metro station and sends her a quick text letting her know he’s managed to finally find time to go exploring DC. Their cross country road trip to college had given a chance to become even closer, to get to know things about each other that no one else knew, and it strengthened their bond in a way he can’t even explain. It probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone else since they’d also had a lot of hours to talk and discuss their relationship, and things had changed between them. By the time she dropped him off at GWU, it had been as his best friend and ex-girlfriend because neither of them really wanted to deal with long distance and trying to maintain a romantic relationship that seemed to be more like best friends with sexy times benefits instead of ‘I want to marry you and settle down and have babies’. It was a good decision, and he knows they don’t have any regrets because they’re constantly texting and Skyping whenever they get time but he says goodbye in a ‘you’re my best friend’ way and not a painful ‘I miss you and want to kiss you’ way.

It isn’t until he’s leaving the metro station that his phone buzzes. He reads Lydia’s reply and grins. He types a quick reply, telling her that his plan for the day is museum crawling because he’s been in DC for three weeks and still hasn’t been to the freaking Smithsonian. None of them. It’s a travesty of epic proportion that he is going to rectify on this pretty Saturday morning in September. Of course, Saturday means there are tourists all over the place, but it’s easy enough to navigate around them and avoid interaction.

While he normally hates crowds, he’s in a good mood today so they’re more tolerable than usual. It’s been a good week: he aced his first two tests, won a debate with a jerk in his Poli Sci class, and has already made a few study buddy friends. Of course, he also had dinner with Rafe last night, where he got lectured about the FBI and what he can and cannot do during college if he wants to get accepted into the bureau. It’s still a little odd to have Scott’s dad stepping in to sorta mentor him, but it pays to have connections because he’s going to be a lot more careful about campus parties and other activities he could indulge in because of the security clearance issues he’ll be dealing with in a few years.

His dad would hate to know he’s got to thank Rafael for Stiles choosing not to indulge in the crazy college parties and whole drinking slash drug experimentation that some of his freshman classmates are _already_ getting involved with after just a couple of weeks.

After walking through an art museum and a sculpture garden that’s pretty cool, he heads to the American History museum. It’s when he’s going through a really interesting exhibit on war that he notices a familiar face looking at the same artifact from the other side of the glass case. He blinks because he thinks he must be imagining things, but the image doesn’t change. Stiles stares at the familiar jaw line and sharp cheekbones until Jackson looks up and is unable to hide his own surprise at seeing Stiles through the glass display case.

“How long have you been standing there?” Jackson demands as he walks around the case. He looks Stiles over before sniffing haughtily. “I see that you’ve become a creeper like half those morons in Beacon Hills. I’m glad I got out before it infected me.”

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were in London.” Stiles narrows his eyes. “And, if I remember correctly, you _were_ infected before running away.”

“Obviously, you were misinformed.” Jackson scoffs. “I _was_ in London, but now I’m here. I got into Georgetown, so I came back a few weeks ago. Besides, infected by becoming a bad ass werewolf is an improvement over becoming a stalking creeper.”

“Of course you’re going to Georgetown.” Stiles snorts. “Rich boy school of choice for this area.”

“It has an excellent academic program, and I got a full scholarship, dumbass.” Jackson sneers at him, the nerve in his cheek twitching the way it always has when Stiles pokes a little too hard at a sensitive area. “Why are _you_ here? I’m surprised McCall let you off your leash to come cross country by yourself.”

“Pre-FBI program at George Washington University.” Stiles tilts his chin somewhat defiantly because he’s expecting some scathing remark. “And there isn’t a leash, asshole.”

“Figures. You _would_ want to be a fed.” Jackson arches a brow. “I remember you wanting to play cops and robbers without ever wanting to trade off being a cop. I was always forced to be the bad guy because of your freakish need to be the good guy.”

“I was five and it was fun handcuffing you to the things because you’d turn red and whine,” Stiles recalls, feeling a slightly nostalgic smile spread across his lips. That was definitely a lifetime ago, when he and Jackson had been best friends instead of snide enemies. He can’t stop himself from leering a little and adding, “Bet you’d still turn red and whine if I handcuffed you now.”

Jackson blinks at him. “Did you seriously just…” He trails off and actually blushes. “You’re still a smartass, I see.”

“Takes one to know one,” Stiles says, still a bit awestruck at the idea he made Jackson _blush_ just by dropping an innuendo. “So, uh, what’s at Georgetown?”

“Pre-Med.” Jackson gives him a look that practically dares him to laugh. “I’m planning to go to med school. I want to go into emergency trauma services.”

Stiles didn’t really expect that answer, since he’s always figured Jackson as the type to either do law like his dad or some hoity toity business type thing, but he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he studies Jackson curiously. “You know, no matter how many people you save, you’ll never forget the ones you killed.”

“This isn’t some twisted form of penance,” Jackson tells him quietly. “It might seem that way, but I’m mostly interested in saving as many people as I can. Plus, it’s good money and always busy.”

“It’s also a hell of a lot of hard work,” Stiles points out. “Of course, I happen to remember _you_ always wanting to play doctor a lot, so it’s a fitting career choice.”

“I was a curious child with a vast imagination, and the only time you shut up was when I had the tongue depressor in your mouth,” Jackson says loftily. “We won’t discuss the other curiosities that were satisfied at that age because we vowed never to speak about it again.”

“Yes, I remember the vow.” Stiles smiles because it’s actually really nice seeing Jackson far away from Beacon Hills and being able to remember a long forgotten friendship with smiles instead of frustration. “It was part of the fifth grade truce that Danny and Scott forced us to make when I kept gluing your pencil to your desk, and you kept tripping me on the playground.”

“Oh God. We were such horrible brats.” Jackson huffs a laugh. “But it’s your fault. You’re the one who wouldn’t share your Han Solo action figure. You knew he was my favorite, but you still forced me to play with Luke Skywalker all the time.”

“It was just too fun pissing you off,” Stiles admits, flashing a sheepish smile because it’s _still_ fun pissing Jackson off. “I might have only been 10, but I’ve always been an asshole. Besides, my mom didn’t buy me the Leia figure that I asked for because they were all sold out, so I had to be Han since he was my second favorite.”

“You could have shared,” Jackson mutters, dragging his fingers through his hair. The action makes Stiles notice that his hair is longer, not quite so ‘jock douchebag’ short.

It looks good that way, and it takes Stiles a moment to realize he’s checking out Jackson. Like _really_ checking him out. Startled, he takes a step back and hits the display case with his elbow. Jackson arches a brow and sniffs the air, eyes widening. “I, uh, I know how to share,” Stiles says, thinking about the time he caught his dad making out with Natalie last year in order to stop thinking about how damn good Jackson looks right now. He clears his throat. “I just figured I wouldn’t share since you were always so spoiled and used to getting what you want.”

“I never get what I really want, Stiles.” Jackson steps closer. “Lydia just wanted the image, the captain of the lacrosse team and swim team, and I wanted to date a popular girl but I really did love her. I never got _her_ , though, the whole her that she’d keep hidden from the world. I wanted the bite, wanted to be strong and confident and good at everything, but all I got was misery and blood on my hands and an alpha that hated the sight of me. I wanted you to apologize and beg me to be your best friend again, but all I got was you befriending McCall and fucking with me until we became enemies instead. I wanted my parents to love me, but all I got was a reminder from my dad that I was adopted and had to uphold a certain image or else he’d disown me. So, yeah, fuck you with your whole ‘getting what I want’ bullshit.”

“Lydia loves you,” Stiles says after a moment of trying to take in everything Jackson just told him. There was a lot of vulnerability there that he isn’t ready to process in the middle of a museum after not seeing Jackson for years. So he focuses on the one thing he _can_ discuss easily. “She and I have talked about anything and everything since we became best friends, and we discussed past relationships when we were dating. She still cares about you, asshole.”

“Dating?” Jackson steps back suddenly and his face closes off. It’s like an icy chill has suddenly settled between them. “You and Lydia are dating?”

“ _Were_ dating.” Stiles nods. “We got together before the end of school and stayed together through the summer. Ended things when she dropped me off at GWU because it wasn’t really passionate love, you know? Like, she’s my best friend. My soulmate in a lot of ways, but it was comfortable and a calm in the storm of Beacon Hills more than it was a future together. We decided to do college and date other people and see how things go with no pressure or commitment to a romantic us.”

“Can’t believe you’d let her go when she’s all you wanted for so long.” Jackson turns to look at the exhibit case beside them, that nerve in his cheek twitching again. The ice is starting to thaw but not completely.

“I didn’t let her go. We let each other go,” Stiles says, shrugging. “Sometimes, we want something so bad that we build it up in our heads, and then it’s not that way once we get it. I love her a lot, but I’m just not really in love with her, and she deserves that kind of passion and emotion. Same with her, though. She’s not in love with me, not in a ‘can’t keep her hands off and wants to climb me like a tree’ way.”

“Fuck, you sound like that stupid old song. What is it?” Jackson hums a bit. “You can’t always get what you want but—“

“You get what you need,” Stiles finishes. “Yeah, Mom used to play that one a lot. That and the one about time being on your side.”

“I remember,” Jackson whispers, glancing at him before looking away again. “She liked that classic shit.”

“It was awesome.” Stiles bites his lip and looks around the museum before focusing back on Jackson. Fuck. He’s about to do something stupid that he won’t hopefully regret but he’s young so that’s the time to do stupid things, right? “So, uh, you here alone?”

“Do you see anyone waiting for me?” Jackson asks dryly, looking at him curiously.

“How would I know that you didn’t come here with some museum speed freak who doesn’t even read the exhibit signs?” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I’m planning to do a few more museums today, maybe grab some lunch soon.”

“Is that an offer?” Jackson slowly smirks. “Or are you just telling me your itinerary for the day?”

“Should have known I’d have to use small words, seeing as you go to Georgetown,” Stiles says, lips twitching slightly but managing to remain firmly pressed together. “Do you want to hang out?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson drawls. “You didn’t ask very nicely. I’m not sure you really mean it or if you’re just asking because we ran into each other by chance.”

“I’m not begging, asshole,” Stiles mutters, making a face at him. “We hate each other anyway, so it’s probably a stupid idea brought on by too much nostalgia and seeing a familiar face in a new town.”

“I don’t hate you, dumbass.” Jackson glares at him. “I’ve never hated you. Wanted to punch you repeatedly until you apologized and shared your stupid action figure? Sure. Wanted to punch you repeatedly until you stopped drooling over Lydia and paid attention to me? Yeah. Wanted to punch you repeatedly until you smiled at me like you used to? Okay. But I never hated you.”

“I’m somehow getting the idea that you want to punch me repeatedly,” Stiles deadpans, mind running through what Jackson just said and analyzing it. “Wait, you wanted me to pay attention to you?”

“Whatever.” Jackson pouts. “I might have been jealous that you were always after Lydia when she didn’t even know your fucking name but you’d ignore me or be a sarcastic ass instead of giving me the attention I deserved.”

“If I didn’t know you and just saw you for the first time here at this museum, I’d have thought you were ridiculously hot and probably would have considered flirting. I wouldn’t have because I’m not that good at flirting, but I’d have thought about it and kicked myself later for not having the balls to do it,” Stiles admits, smiling wryly when Jackson stares at him. “Lydia and I have only been broken up for a few weeks, though, and you and I share the same ex-girlfriend, which is kinda weird, so I’m not flirting with you. Not yet. Maybe I will in a few weeks, if I get the chance, but I can’t right now because you aren’t a hot stranger. You’re my former best friend with a shared past that few people would ever understand or accept.”

“Danny told me about what happened to you after I left town, with the demon fox thing. I know I’m not the only one with blood on my hands, Stiles,” Jackson whispers, stepping closer to him. “And, yeah, the both of us dating Lydia thing is awkward, but shit happens. I used to fantasize about her letting you join us, and I’d come extremely hard thinking about fucking and getting fucked by both of you, so I don’t think it’s a roadblock so much as a curve in the road.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince me to flirt, Jackson,” Stiles points out, studying his face curiously. “And Danny’s right, about what happened. He disappeared soon after, but I know he knew more than we ever realized.”

“He’s actually in DC. It’s one reason I chose Georgetown,” Jackson admits. “He’s doing computer shit for some organization with random initials he won’t tell me doing work that he can’t talk about while going to AU. They recruited him when he got caught hacking something, so, yeah. He’s around, and he’d probably love to see you because the dumbass always had a crush on you, which is why he liked teasing you constantly.”

“No way.” Stiles shakes his head. “Danny couldn’t stand me. You’re fucking with me.”

“Am not!” Jackson sulks. “He’d say that I wasn’t his type while panting around after your skinny ass, which is such a lie because we all know that I’m everyone’s type.”

“My ass isn’t skinny,” Stiles says, a little dismayed at the idea that Danny had had a crush on him. And that Jackson used to get off thinking about fucking him and Lydia together, which is a fantasy that Stiles totally had a billion times himself. It’s not like he didn’t know he was bi when he was thirteen and couldn’t decide if Lydia or Jackson was prettiest. “Anyway, we’re getting off topic here. Museum crawl and lunch is the offer on the table. Take it or leave it.”

“Are you always this unromantic?” Jackson huffs, but his lips curve into a teasing smile that sort of takes Stiles’ breath away. “I’ll take it, but you’d better be more romantic when you ask me out for our first date.”

Instead of waiting for Stiles to reply, Jackson winks at him and walks off towards the next exhibit, adding a little roll to his hips that is pretty damn distracting. Stiles stares for a moment until Jackson looks over his shoulder and arches a brow, giving him a look that totally says ‘come on, dumbass’. Stiles thinks about calling Lydia to find out how pissed she’ll be if he tries dating her ex-boyfriend, but he decides that it’s way easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. Besides, she adores him too much to be that angry. She’ll probably just want details. And pictures. Maybe a movie.

Stiles grins as he hurries to catch up with Jackson, putting his hand on Jackson’s arm and squeezing lightly. “Hey, wait for me, asshole.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


End file.
